INTEREST
The feeling that we call interest is so important a motive in our lives
and so colors our acts and gives direction to our endeavors that we will
do well to devote a chapter to its discussion.
1. THE NATURE OF INTEREST
We saw in an earlier chapter that personal habits have their rise in
race habits or instincts. Let us now see how interest helps the
individual to select from his instinctive acts those which are useful to
build into personal habits. Instinct impartially starts the child in the
performance of many different activities, but does not dictate what
particular acts shall be retained to serve as the basis for habits.
Interest comes in at this point and says, "This act is of more value
than that act; continue this act and drop that." Instinct prompts the
babe to countless movements of body and limb. Interest picks out those
that are most vitally connected with the welfare of the organism, and
the child comes to prefer these rather than the others. Thus it is that
out of the random movements of arms and legs and head and body we
finally develop the coördinated activities which are infinitely more
useful than the random ones were. And these activities, originating in
instincts, and selected by interest, are soon crystallized into habits.
INTEREST A SELECTIVE AGENT.--The same truth holds for mental activities
as for physical. A thousand channels lie open for your stream of thought
at this moment, but your interest has beckoned it into the one
particular channel which, for the time, at least, appears to be of the
greatest subjective value; and it is now following that channel unless
your will has compelled it to leave that for another. Your thinking as
naturally follows your interest as the needle does the magnet, hence
your thought activities are conditioned largely by your interests. This
is equivalent to saying that your mental habits rest back finally upon
your interests.
Everyone knows what it is to be interested; but interest, like other
elementary states of consciousness, cannot be rigidly defined. (1)
Subjectively considered, interest may be looked upon as _a feeling
attitude which assigns our activities their place in a subjective scale
of values_, and hence selects among them. (2) Objectively considered, an
interest is _the object which calls forth the feeling_. (3) Functionally
considered, interest is _the dynamic phase of consciousness_.
INTEREST SUPPLIES A SUBJECTIVE SCALE OF VALUES.--If you are interested
in driving a horse rather than in riding a bicycle, it is because the
former has a greater subjective value to you than the latter. If you are
interested in reading these words instead of thinking about the next
social function or the last picnic party, it is because at this moment
the thought suggested appeals to you as of more value than the other
lines of thought. From this it follows that your standards of values are
revealed in the character of your interests. The young man who is
interested in the race track, in gaming, and in low resorts confesses by
the fact that these things occupy a high place among the things which
appeal to him as subjectively valuable. The mother whose interests are
chiefly in clubs and other social organizations places these higher in
her scale of values than her home. The reader who can become interested
only in light, trashy literature must admit that matter of this type
ranks higher in his subjective scale of values than the works of the
masters. Teachers and students whose strongest interest is in grade
marks value these more highly than true attainment. For, whatever may be
our claims or assertions, interest is finally an infallible barometer of
the values we assign to our activities.
In the case of some of our feelings it is not always possible to ascribe
an objective side to them. A feeling of ennui, of impending evil, or of
bounding vivacity, may be produced by an unanalyzable complex of causes.
But interest, while it is related primarily to the activities of the
self, is carried over from the activity to the object which occasions
the activity. That is, interest has both an objective and a subjective
side. On the subjective side a certain activity connected with
self-expression is worth so much; on the objective side a certain object
is worth so much as related to this self-expression. Thus we say, I have
an interest in books or in business; my daily activities, my
self-expression, are governed with reference to these objects. They are
my interests.
INTEREST DYNAMIC.--Many of our milder feelings terminate within
ourselves, never attaining sufficient force as motives to impel us to
action. Not so with interest. Its very nature is dynamic. Whatever it
seizes upon becomes _ipso facto_ an object for some activity, for some
form of expression of the self. Are we interested in a new book, we must
read it; in a new invention, we must see it, handle it, test it; in some
vocation or avocation, we must pursue it. Interest is impulsive. It
gives its possessor no opportunity for lethargic rest and quiet, but
constantly urges him to action. Grown ardent, interest becomes
enthusiasm, "without which," says Emerson, "nothing great was ever
accomplished." Are we an Edison, with a strong interest centered in
mechanical invention, it will drive us day and night in a ceaseless
activity which scarcely gives us time for food and sleep. Are we a
Lincoln, with an undying interest in the Union, this motive will make
possible superhuman efforts for the accomplishment of our end. Are we
man or woman anywhere, in any walk of life, so we are dominated by
mighty interests grown into enthusiasm for some object, we shall find
great purposes growing within us, and our life will be one of activity
and achievement. On the contrary, a life which has developed no great
interest lacks motive power. Of necessity such a life must be devoid of
purpose and hence barren of results, counting little while it is being
lived, and little missed by the world when it is gone.
HABIT ANTAGONISTIC TO INTEREST.--While, as we have seen, interest is
necessary to the formation of habits, yet habits once formed are
antagonistic to interest. That is, acts which are so habitually
performed that they "do themselves" are accompanied by a minimum of
interest. They come to be done without attentive consciousness, hence
interest cannot attach to their performance. Many of the activities
which make up the daily round of our lives are of this kind. As long as
habit is being modified in some degree, as long as we are improving in
our ways of doing things, interest will still cling to the process; but
let us once settle into an unmodified rut, and interest quickly fades
away. We then have the conditions present which make of us either a
machine or a drudge.
2. DIRECT AND INDIRECT INTEREST
We may have an interest either (1) in the doing of an act, or (2) in the
end sought through the doing. In the first instance we call the interest
_immediate_ or _direct_; in the second instance, _mediate_ or
_indirect_.
INTEREST IN THE END VERSUS INTEREST IN THE ACTIVITY.--If we do not find
an interest in the doing of our work, or if it has become positively
disagreeable so that we loathe its performance, then there must be some
ultimate end for which the task is being performed, and in which there
is a strong interest, else the whole process will be the veriest
drudgery. If the end is sufficiently interesting it may serve to throw a
halo of interest over the whole process connected with it. The following
instance illustrates this fact:
A twelve-year-old boy was told by his father that if he would make the
body of an automobile at his bench in the manual training school, the
father would purchase the running gear for it and give the machine to
the boy. In order to secure the coveted prize, the boy had to master the
arithmetic necessary for making the calculations, and the drawing
necessary for making the plans to scale before the teacher in manual
training would allow him to take up the work of construction. The boy
had always lacked interest in both arithmetic and drawing, and
consequently was dull in them. Under the new incentive, however, he took
hold of them with such avidity that he soon surpassed all the remainder
of the class, and was able to make his calculations and drawings within
a term. He secured his automobile a few months later, and still retained
his interest in arithmetic and drawing.
INDIRECT INTEREST AS A MOTIVE.--Interest of the indirect type, which
does not attach to the process, but comes from some more or less
distant end, most of us find much less potent than interest which is
immediate. This is especially true unless the end be one of intense
desire and not too distant. The assurance to a boy that he must get his
lessons well because he will need to be an educated man ten years hence
when he goes into business for himself does not compensate for the lack
of interest in the lessons of today.
Yet it is necessary in the economy of life that both children and adults
should learn to work under the incitement of indirect interests. Much of
the work we do is for an end which is more desirable than the work
itself. It will always be necessary to sacrifice present pleasure for
future good. Ability to work cheerfully for a somewhat distant end saves
much of our work from becoming drudgery. If interest is removed from
both the process and the end, no inducement is left to work except
compulsion; and this, if continued, results in the lowest type of
effort. It puts a man on a level with the beast of burden, which
constantly shirks its work.
INDIRECT INTEREST ALONE INSUFFICIENT.--Interest coming from an end
instead of inhering in the process may finally lead to an interest in
the work itself; but if it does not, the worker is in danger of being
left a drudge at last. To be more than a slave to his work one must
ultimately find the work worth doing for its own sake. The man who
performs his work solely because he has a wife and babies at home will
never be an artist in his trade or profession; the student who masters a
subject only because he must know it for an examination is not
developing the traits of a scholar. The question of interest in the
process makes the difference between the one who works because he loves
to work and the one who toils because he must--it makes the difference
between the artist and the drudge. The drudge does only what he must
when he works, the artist all he can. The drudge longs for the end of
labor, the artist for it to begin. The drudge studies how he may escape
his labor, the artist how he may better his and ennoble it.
To labor when there is joy in the work is elevating, to labor under the
lash of compulsion is degrading. It matters not so much what a man's
occupation as how it is performed. A coachman driving his team down the
crowded street better than anyone else could do it, and glorying in that
fact, may be a true artist in his occupation, and be ennobled through
his work. A statesman molding the affairs of a nation as no one else
could do it, or a scholar leading the thought of his generation is
subject to the same law; in order to give the best grade of service of
which he is capable, man must find a joy in the performance of the work
as well as in the end sought through its performance. No matter how high
the position or how refined the work, the worker becomes a slave to his
labor unless interest in its performance saves him.
3. TRANSITORINESS OF CERTAIN INTERESTS
Since our interests are always connected with our activities it follows
that many interests will have their birth, grow to full strength, and
then fade away as the corresponding instincts which are responsible for
the activities pass through these same stages. This only means that
interest in play develops at the time when the play activities are
seeking expression; that interest in the opposite sex becomes strong
when instinctive tendencies are directing the attention to the choice of
a mate; and that interest in abstract studies comes when the
development of the brain enables us to carry on logical trains of
thought. All of us can recall many interests which were once strong, and
are now weak or else have altogether passed away. Hide-and-seek,
Pussy-wants-a-corner, excursions to the little fishing pond, securing
the colored chromo at school, the care of pets, reading
blood-and-thunder stories or sentimental ones--interest in these things
belongs to our past, or has left but a faint shadow. Other interests
have come, and these in turn will also disappear and other new ones yet
appear as long as we keep on acquiring new experience.
INTERESTS MUST BE UTILIZED WHEN THEY APPEAR.--This means that we must
take advantage of interests when they appear if we wish to utilize and
develop them. How many people there are who at one time felt an interest
impelling them to cultivate their taste for music, art, or literature
and said they would do this at some convenient season, and finally found
themselves without a taste for these things! How many of us have felt an
interest in some benevolent work, but at last discovered that our
inclination had died before we found time to help the cause! How many of
us, young as we are, do not at this moment lament the passing of some
interest from our lives, or are now watching the dying of some interest
which we had fondly supposed was as stable as Gibraltar? The drawings of
every interest which appeals to us is a voice crying, "Now is the
appointed time!" What impulse urges us today to become or to do, we must
begin at once to be or perform, if we would attain to the coveted end.
THE VALUE OF A STRONG INTEREST.--Nor are we to look upon these
transitory interests as useless. They come to us not only as a race
heritage, but they impel us to activities which are immediately useful,
or else prepare us for the later battles of life. But even aside from
this important fact it is worth everything just to be interested. For it
is only through the impulsion of interest that we first learn to put
forth effort in any true sense of the word, and interest furnishes the
final foundation upon which volition rests. Without interest the
greatest powers may slumber in us unawakened, and abilities capable of
the highest attainment rest satisfied with commonplace mediocrity. No
one will ever know how many Gladstones and Leibnitzes the world has lost
simply because their interests were never appealed to in such a way as
to start them on the road to achievement. It matters less what the
interest be, so it be not bad, than that there shall be some great
interest to compel endeavor, test the strength of endurance, and lead to
habits of achievement.
4. SELECTION AMONG OUR INTERESTS
I said early in the discussion that interest is selective among our
activities, picking out those which appear to be of the most value to
us. In the same manner there must be a selection among our interests
themselves.
THE MISTAKE OF FOLLOWING TOO MANY INTERESTS.--It is possible for us to
become interested in so many lines of activity that we do none of them
well. This leads to a life so full of hurry and stress that we forget
life in our busy living. Says James with respect to the necessity of
making a choice among our interests:
"With most objects of desire, physical nature restricts our choice to
but one of many represented goods, and even so it is here. I am often
confronted by the necessity of standing by one of my empirical selves
and relinquishing the rest. Not that I would not, if I could, be both
handsome and fat, and well dressed, and a great athlete, and make a
million a year; be a wit, a bon vivant, and a lady-killer, as well as a
philosopher; a philanthropist, statesman, warrior, and African explorer,
as well as a 'tone poet' and saint. But the thing is simply impossible.
The millionaire's work would run counter to the saint's; the bon vivant
and the philosopher and the lady-killer could not well keep house in the
same tenement of clay. Such different characters may conceivably at the
outset of life be alike possible to man. But to make any one of them
actual, the rest must more or less be suppressed. The seeker of his
truest, strongest, deepest self must review the list carefully, and pick
out the one on which to stake his salvation."
INTERESTS MAY BE TOO NARROW.--On the other hand, it is just as possible
for our interests to be too narrow as too broad. The one who has
cultivated no interests outside of his daily round of humdrum activities
does not get enough out of life. It is possible to become so engrossed
with making a living that we forget to live--to become so habituated to
some narrow treadmill of labor with the limited field of thought
suggested by its environment, that we miss the richest experiences of
life. Many there are who live a barren, trivial, and self-centered life
because they fail to see the significant and the beautiful which lie
just beyond where their interests reach! Many there are so taken up with
their own petty troubles that they have no heart or sympathy for fellow
humanity! Many there are so absorbed with their own little achievements
that they fail to catch step with the progress of the age!
SPECIALIZATION SHOULD NOT COME TOO EARLY.--It is not well to specialize
too early in our interests. We miss too many rich fields which lie ready
for the harvesting, and whose gleaning would enrich our lives. The
student who is so buried in books that he has no time for athletic
recreations or social diversions is making a mistake equally with the
one who is so enthusiastic an athlete and social devotee that he
neglects his studies. Likewise, the youth who is so taken up with the
study of one particular line that he applies himself to this at the
expense of all other lines is inviting a distorted growth. Youth is the
time for pushing the sky line back on all sides; it is the time for
cultivating diverse and varied lines of interests if we would grow into
a rich experience in our later lives. The physical must be developed,
but not at the expense of the mental, and vice versa. The social must
not be neglected, but it must not be indulged to such an extent that
other interests suffer. Interest in amusements and recreations should be
cultivated, but these should never run counter to the moral and
religious.
Specialization is necessary, but specialization in our interests should
rest upon a broad field of fundamental interests, in order that the
selection of the special line may be an intelligent one, and that our
specialty shall not prove a rut in which we become so deeply buried that
we are lost to the best in life.
A PROPER BALANCE TO BE SOUGHT.--It behooves us, then, to find a proper
balance in cultivating our interests, making them neither too broad nor
too narrow. We should deliberately seek to discover those which are
strong enough to point the way to a life vocation, but this should not
be done until we have had an opportunity to become acquainted with
various lines of interests. Otherwise our decision in this important
matter may be based merely on a whim.
We should also decide what interests we should cultivate for our own
personal development and happiness, and for the service we are to render
in a sphere outside our immediate vocation. We should consider
avocations as well as vocations. Whatever interests are selected should
be carried to efficiency. Better a reasonable number of carefully
selected interests well developed and resulting in efficiency than a
multitude of interests which lead us into so many fields that we can at
best get but a smattering of each, and that by neglecting the things
which should mean the most to us. Our interests should lead us to live
what Wagner calls a "simple life," but not a narrow one.
5. INTEREST FUNDAMENTAL IN EDUCATION
Some educators have feared that in finding our occupations interesting,
we shall lose all power of effort and self-direction; that the will, not
being called sufficiently into requisition, must suffer from non-use;
that we shall come to do the interesting and agreeable things well
enough, but fail before the disagreeable.
INTEREST NOT ANTAGONISTIC TO EFFORT.--The best development of the will
does not come through our being forced to do acts in which there is
absolutely no interest. Work done under compulsion never secures the
full self in its performance. It is done mechanically and usually under
such a spirit of rebellion on the part of the doer, that the advantage
of such training may well be doubted. Nor are we safe in assuming that
tasks done without interest as the motive are always performed under the
direction of the will. It is far more likely that they are done under
some external compulsion, and that the will has, after all, but very
little to do with it. A boy may get an uninteresting lesson at school
without much pressure from his will, providing he is sufficiently afraid
of the master. In order that the will may receive training through
compelling the performance of certain acts, it must have a reasonably
free field, with external pressure removed. The compelling force must
come from within, and not from without.
On the other hand, there is not the least danger that we shall ever find
a place in life where all the disagreeable is removed, and all phases of
our work made smooth and interesting. The necessity will always be
rising to call upon effort to take up the fight and hold us to duty
where interest has failed. And it is just here that there must be no
failure, else we shall be mere creatures of circumstance, drifting with
every eddy in the tide of our life, and never able to breast the
current. Interest is not to supplant the necessity for stern and
strenuous endeavor but rather to call forth the largest measure of
endeavor of which the self is capable. It is to put at work a larger
amount of power than can be secured in any other way; in place of
supplanting the will, it is to give it its point of departure and render
its service all the more effective.
INTEREST AND CHARACTER.--Finally, we are not to forget that bad
interests have the same propulsive power as good ones, and will lead to
acts just as surely. And these acts will just as readily be formed into
habits. It is worth noticing that back of the act lies an interest; in
the act lies the seed of a habit; ahead of the act lies behavior, which
grows into conduct, this into character, and character into destiny. Bad
interests should be shunned and discouraged. But even that is not
enough. Good interests must be installed in the place of the bad ones
from which we wish to escape, for it is through substitution rather
than suppression that we are able to break from the bad and adhere to
the good.
Our interests are an evolution. Out of the simple interests of the child
grow the more complex interests of the man. Lacking the opportunity to
develop the interests of childhood, the man will come somewhat short of
the full interests of manhood. The great thing, then, in educating a
child is to discover the fundamental interests which come to him from
the race and, using these as a starting point, direct them into
constantly broadening and more serviceable ones. Out of the early
interest in play is to come the later interest in work; out of the early
interest in collecting treasure boxes full of worthless trinkets and old
scraps comes the later interest in earning and retaining ownership of
property; out of the interest in chums and playmates come the larger
social interests; out of interest in nature comes the interest of the
naturalist. And so one by one we may examine the interests which bear
the largest fruit in our adult life, and we find that they all have
their roots in some early interest of childhood, which was encouraged
and given a chance to grow.
6. ORDER OF DEVELOPMENT OF OUR INTERESTS
The order in which our interests develop thus becomes an important
question in our education. Nor is the order an arbitrary one, as might
appear on first thought; for interest follows the invariable law of
attaching to the activity for which the organism is at that time ready,
and which it then needs in its further growth. That we are sometimes
interested in harmful things does not disprove this assertion. The
interest in its fundamental aspect is good, and but needs more healthful
environment or more wise direction. While space forbids a full
discussion of the genetic phase of interest here, yet we may profit by a
brief statement of the fundamental interests of certain well-marked
periods in our development.
THE INTERESTS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD.--The interests of early childhood are
chiefly connected with ministering to the wants of the organism as
expressed in the appetites, and in securing control of the larger
muscles. Activity is the preëminent thing--racing and romping are worth
doing for their own sake alone. Imitation is strong, curiosity is
rising, and imagination is building a new world. Speech is a joy,
language is learned with ease, and rhyme and rhythm become second
nature. The interests of this stage are still very direct and immediate.
A distant end does not attract. The thing must be worth doing for the
sake of the doing. Since the young child's life is so full of action,
and since it is out of acts that habits grow, it is doubly desirous
during this period that environment, models, and teaching should all
direct his interests and activities into lines that will lead to
permanent values.
THE INTERESTS OF LATER CHILDHOOD.--In the period from second dentition
to puberty there is a great widening in the scope of interests, as well
as a noticeable change in their character. Activity is still the
keynote; but the child is no longer interested merely in the doing, but
is now able to look forward to the end sought. Interests which are
somewhat indirect now appeal to him, and the how of things attracts his
attention. He is beginning to reach outside of his own little circle,
and is ready for handicraft, reading, history, and science. Spelling,
writing, and arithmetic interest him partly from the activities
involved, but more as a means to an end.
Interest in complex games and plays increases, but the child is not yet
ready for games which require team work. He has not come to the point
where he is willing to sacrifice himself for the good of all. Interest
in moral questions is beginning, and right and wrong are no longer
things which may or may not be done without rebuke or punishment. The
great problem at this stage is to direct the interest into ways of
adapting the means to ends and into willingness to work under voluntary
attention for the accomplishment of the desired end.
THE INTERESTS OF ADOLESCENCE.--Finally, with the advent of puberty,
comes the last stage in the development of interests before adult life.
This period is not marked by the birth of new interests so much as by a
deepening and broadening of those already begun. The end sought becomes
an increasingly larger factor, whether in play or in work. Mere activity
itself no longer satisfies. The youth can now play team games; for his
social interests are taking shape, and he can subordinate himself for
the good of the group. Interest in the opposite sex takes on a new
phase, and social form and mode of dress receive attention. A new
consciousness of self emerges, and the youth becomes introspective.
Questions of the ultimate meaning of things press for solution, and what
and who am I, demands an answer.
At this age we pass from a régime of obedience to one of self-control,
from an ethics of authority to one of individualism. All the interests
are now taking on a more definite and stable form, and are looking
seriously toward life vocations. This is a time of big plans and
strenuous activity. It is a crucial period in our life, fraught with
pitfalls and dangers, with privileges and opportunities. At this
strategic point in our life's voyage we may anchor ourselves with right
interests to a safe manhood and a successful career; or we may, with
wrong interests, bind ourselves to a broken life of discouragement and
defeat.
7. PROBLEMS IN OBSERVATION AND INTROSPECTION
1. Try making a list of your most important interests in order of their
strength. Suppose you had made such a list five years ago, where would
it have differed from the present list? Are you ever obliged to perform
any activities in which you have little or no interest, either directly
or indirectly? Can you name any activities in which you once had a
strong interest but which you now perform chiefly from force of habit
and without much interest?
2. Have you any interests of which you are not proud? On the other hand,
do you lack certain interests which you feel that you should possess?
What interests are you now trying especially to cultivate? To suppress?
Have you as broad a field of interests as you can well take care of?
Have you so many interests that you are slighting the development of
some of the more important ones?
3. Observe several recitations for differences in the amount of interest
shown. Account for these differences. Have you ever observed an
enthusiastic teacher with an uninterested class? A dull, listless
teacher with an interested class?
4. A father offers his son a dollar for every grade on his term report
which is above ninety; what type of interest relative to studies does
this appeal to? What do you think of the advisability of giving prizes
in connection with school work?
5. Most children in the elementary school are not interested in
technical grammar; why not? Histories made up chiefly of dates and lists
of kings or presidents are not interesting; what is the remedy? Would
you call any teaching of literature, history, geography, or science
successful which fails to develop an interest in the subject?
6. After careful observation, make a statement of the differences in the
typical play interests of boys and girls; of children of the third grade
and the eighth grade.